


Say In It

by luxover



Series: The Family [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxover/pseuds/luxover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thiago knows it doesn’t get any better, or any easier. He wants to take Rafa away from it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say In It

Rafa walks into Thiago’s room late at night, and the first thing he does is drop himself onto Thiago’s bed and press his face into Thiago’s neck. Thiago goes from half asleep to wide-awake in less than a second. 

It’s not Rafa’s first time shooting someone, Thiago knows. It’s not even his first time shooting someone _like that,_ Rafa on his feet, and some guy—Bilbao or Malaga, or whoever—tied to a chair, the both of them in some damp, empty basement. That’s not the point, not to Thiago, and he doesn’t think it ever will be, no matter how many times Rafa has to do things like that; Thiago’s been doing them for two years longer, their uncle pressing a gun into his hand and nudging him forward, saying, _Do it for the Family, Thiago,_ and Thiago knows it doesn’t get any better, or any easier. He wants to take Rafa away from it all. 

“Are you okay?” Thiago asks, even though he already knows. 

“No,” Rafa says, and his lips move lightly against Thiago’s skin as the rest of his body drapes heavily over Thiago’s. 

“Sorry,” Thiago says. He doesn’t know what to say that wouldn’t be a lie, and he would never lie to Rafa, because they’re all each other’s got. Everyone else—all the grunts and the guys that stay over at the La Masia—they all signed up for this, Leo and the Davids and even Jona. But Rafa and Thiago? They never had any say in it, and knew better than to expect to. It’s not as nice, being Family, as everyone seems to think. 

“Don’t be,” Rafa says, and he breathes heavily. He shifts a little, shoves his legs under the covers without moving his upper body; he’s fully dressed but his feet are cold against Thiago’s. “Your bed’s better than mine.” 

And Thiago wants to say, _So tell Uncle Pep and he’ll get you a new one,_ but with Rafa how he is, wound so tightly and stuck in his own head, Thiago doesn’t. Instead, he says, “You can sleep here, if you want.” 

“Okay,” Rafa says, and that’s it, just _okay._ Thiago hates that, the fact that that’s all Rafa has to say, and so Thiago talks enough for the both of them. 

He says, “The beds in Brazil are even better than this. They drink a lot of coffee there, too, which you’d go crazy over. Sometimes that’s all they have for breakfast, just coffee and bread.” 

Thiago doesn’t know what he’s talking about, not at all, and Rafa knows that. Neither of them has ever left Spain, but if they could, they’d go to Brazil, to see where their dad used to live, and to talk to people who had known him. 

“Sounds nice,” Rafa says. His breathing is even and Thiago thinks that must be a good thing. 

“It’s terrible,” Thiago says. “You’d be hungry twenty minutes later.” 

Rafa doesn’t laugh, but it’s a near thing, his lips curving against Thiago’s neck, and that’s close enough. 

They lie there like that for a few more minutes, just the two of them in bed, and then there’s a knock at Thiago’s door, and Thiago has to untangle his limbs from his brother’s in order to get up and answer it. It’s Puyi—just Puyi—but still, Thiago barely even cracks his door open; it’s no one else’s business how Rafa is, and no one else needs to know that he’s in Thiago’s bed because he doesn’t want to be alone in his own. 

“What’s up?” Thiago asks. He’s shirtless and Puyi raises an eyebrow when he scratches at his bare belly and adjusts himself in his shorts. “Fuck off, I was sleeping.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Puyi says, like he doesn’t for a second buy it, but at least he doesn’t make any jokes about Thiago jerking off. 

“You on house duty or something?” Thiago asks. Sometimes the grunts make runs at night, or they have to talk to the Don, and then they work out of the Family House and not the Farmhouse; it’s not strange to see some of the guys there in the middle of the night, working. 

“Nah,” he says. “Just dropping some stuff off, and Jona wanted me to tell you that he knows that he’s still not allowed to swing by the House, but that he’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Alright,” Thiago says. “I figured.” 

“The Don still banning him?” Puyi asks. 

“Yeah,” Thiago nods. Jona and Rafa had gotten into a bit of trouble a few months back—a bit of _Madrid_ trouble, which was the worst kind—and their uncle had been nothing short of angry. He started training Rafa not long after that, and Jona’s not to step foot in the House, not until Pep says he can. Rafa and Thiago spend a lot of time at La Masia because of that, just smoking cigarettes and playing football with whoever’s there that’s interested. 

“Rough,” Puyi says, but he’s got his own things to worry about and doesn’t sound to beat up over it. 

“S’alright,” Thiago says. “Thanks anyways.” 

He shuts the door when Puyi heads back down the hall, and when he turns to Rafa, he says, “Jona’s on his way.” 

“Thought Puyi said he wasn’t coming,” Rafa says. “Isn’t he still forbidden fruit or whatever?” He sits up a little, rests his weight back on his elbows, and he looks exactly the same as he had a few hours ago, his face and his mannerisms and everything all just screaming _Rafa._ There’s something comforting in that, to Thiago. 

“When has that ever stopped him?” Thiago asks, and he heads over to the window, unlocks it and slides it open just enough for Jona to be able to fit through. 

“Good point,” Rafa says, and he moves a little to take his belt off, even though he keeps his pants on. “I think the only time he didn’t come over was after that thing with the prostitutes.” 

“Yeah, that was a low point for him,” Thiago agrees, and he climbs back into bed, presses his arm solidly against Rafa’s from their shoulders to the backs of their hands. 

“It was a pretty high point for me, though,” Rafa says, and Thiago laughs a little, because that’s true. And then Rafa shoves Thiago over, says, “Quit hogging the bed,” and, “Jesus, you’d think you were touch-starved as a kid, with the way you are,” and something in Thiago’s chest loosens at that, something that he didn’t even know was tightened in the first place. 

Thiago opens his mouth to respond, only then a bag of Trolli peach rings flies through the window, and so instead he says, “Jona’s here.” 

“I’m pissed he didn’t get the sour worms,” Rafa says, and then he hops out of bed, walks over to the window on the balls of his feet, and leaning out, whispers, “Hey, fuckhead, go home and come back when you’ve got some sour worms.” 

Jona must say something rude back, because then Rafa’s looking over his shoulder at Thiago, a huge smile across his face, his tongue poking out between his teeth, and Thiago can do nothing but smile back just as wide, and that’s that. Another day done, and there’s nothing to do but keep on going. 


End file.
